Nothing Like Hell for the Holidays
by Dot
Summary: Snow, blood, and Christmas, 1897.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Not mine. How sad. Well, maybe not, considering if they were, half the series would never have happened, since my imagination is not nearly as fertile as Joss Whedon's.

Chapter One

"One more snort out of you, boy, and I will knock that smug head of yours off your shoulders."

Spike bit down on his lip hard to suppress the laugh that bubbled up out of his chest. He knew better than to trifle with Angelus when he took that tone. But it really was too funny to ignore, the way his hair was a blown out of its neat ponytail and into flurry of dark brown wisps, all covered with pale snowflakes, the way the peach and scarlet silk of his clothes was splattered with mud. The gruff look on his ridged, demonic face made it even worse, and the burning in his eyes... well, that was more sobering now that Spike took a moment to look in them.

It was rare that William the Bloody deigned to obey his grandsire. But one look in his eyes, and Spike had bowed his head in submission and continued his battle with the back wheel of their carriage. He felt Angelus' eyes leave him as he did the same.

He found it demeaning, Spike guessed. Lord of their family, scourge of Europe... lowered to yanking their carriage out of the muddy snow. Make that attempting to yank their carriage out. They were not having too much success with that particular feat. And that he found demeaning. Two vampires, unable to get a carriage out of a rut. It was laughable.

Spike didn't understand how there could be so much snow. Rain he understood, but this maelstrom of snow... Every time it seemed they'd made a dent in the ice that had molded to the wheels, the hole filled again. And it was bloody hard to see, what with the flurries of snow blowing all around them.

The decision to travel in this weather had been insane. He'd been too angry to argue when Darla had busted in on him and Drusilla, declaring they were leaving. A slayer was on their trail, she'd said, and that slayer was a tad angry after Angelus had broken into a local convent, raping and mutilating the nuns. Spike had half wanted to stay and fight this slayer but the sight of Darla disheveled and almost- though she would never admit it- frightened had been enough to make him rise, dress, and begin to pack, throwing essentials like Drusilla's favorite dolls and clothes into a couple of bags.

They'd set off right before the storm broke. Traveling as a family was rarely pleasant, and this time was no different. Darla wasn't speaking with Angelus, and because she rarely bothered to speak to either of the childer, she pretended to read. Angelus wasn't letting her anger concern him- or perhaps he was, because whatever he was doing under the hem of Drusilla's dress on the other side of the carriage was making her moan, the only sound available to listen to, if you didn't count the wind, and it was making Darla both more annoyed and hungry for attention of the same kind. Every time the younger woman let out whimper, Darla's shoulders stiffened- and Spike got angrier by the minute.

He'd had just about enough of Daddy's playing when the carriage jolted and the horses let out loud whinnies. Spike fell forward, and a moment later, Darla landed on his legs ungracefully. Drusilla laughed merrily and cried out something about the ponies riding toward death. Angelus... Angelus did not look happy. He withdrew his hand from beneath Drusilla's dress and slowly licked his fingers, eyes locked with the prostrate Spike's, and then sprung forward, kicking the door of the carriage open. A flood of white entered the carriage as he jumped out.

"William!" Angelus had roared from the outside, and Spike had scrambled to join him, mostly because outside he would have a chance to hit him. The chance hadn't come, since Angelus was kneeling with his back to him when he stepped outside, and Spike wasn't about to attack him from behind. Angelus would have too much fun taunting him about that later.

A quick inspection had served to show that the carriage had gone slightly off the road, and was stuck in a muddy, snowy rut. One of the horses had a broken leg, as well. Angelus dispatched the suffering animal quickly. The other horse was led to a nearby tree and tied up. After that, the two had begun to go at it, smashing the snow that surrounded the wheels, and trying to lift the carriage out of the mud.

They had been at it for almost an hour, digging and getting nowhere. He didn't know when they had both reverted to demon form- probably when the ice had given them more trouble, or the cold had become a touch annoying. In fact, the whole thing had become more than a touch annoying- it was driving Spike madder than Drusilla.

"We might get a little more done if the bloody women would get off their bloody arses and help!" Spike yelled above the howling wind.

Angelus didn't reply. He straightened instead and shook his head. The ridges and fangs melted back into his human face as the snow that had built up on his hair and shoulders fell away. "We're not getting anywhere at all."

"Do you suggest we wait it out? I don't feel like staying here until spring thaws out the bleeding snow!" Spike argued, kicking the pile of snow around his wheel.

"We'll have to walk. There must be a house somewhere close. Shelter and a warm meal are sounding better every moment." Angelus smiled, eyes glinting with the anticipation of fresh blood after the work and the cold.

Spike rolled his eyes. "We're in the middle of soddin' nowhere, and you think we'll find a nice, comfortable house with a blazing fire and pretty little virgins to eat?"

In an instant, Angelus was at his throat, clutching the dark fabric of his coat and holding him off the ground. Spike struggled his grip but Angelus held tight, nostrils flared and teeth clinched. "Don't make me leave you out here, boy. The sun will be up before you wake after what I'll do to you."

Spike struggled again and Angelus let him go. Spike let his face morph back into his human countenance and nodded. "Fine. We'll walk. But I don't suppose the horse will last it through."

"The horse died twenty minutes ago, you idiot. Use your ears."

Spike listened harder, and indeed, there was nothing but wind coming from the direction they had tied the horse. He snorted. "Darla doesn't fancy snow."

"Yes, well, this was bloody Darla's idea, wasn't it?" Angelus said mockingly. He moved to the carriage door and smiled at the two women as he climbed in. "Darlings, we are going to have to go on foot from here."

Drusilla clapped her hands together, eyes shining. "An adventure? A snow queen I shall be, black all wrapped up in red and white..."

Spike joined Angelus inside and reached out for Drusilla. "Come on, pet. We'll dance through the storm."

Drusilla slipped easily into his arms and out of the carriage. He spun her around, laughing with her as she tried to catch the wild snowflakes in her mouth. When he stopped and placed her on her feet again, Darla and Angelus were arm in arm in front of the carriage, heads leaned in toward each other, watching them with amused smiles. Spike managed to smile back, his foul mood gone after precious moments with his darling.

"Will, my boy," Angelus started, for once making the mocking title sound almost affectionate. His smile grew just a tad as he said the next words, and the light in his eyes danced as Spike's grin faded.

"Get our bags."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is a short one… More should be up soon.

_Chapter Two_

Trudging through the snow loaded down with the luggage of two women and one overly prissy man was very low on Spike's list of ways to enjoy an evening, down toward the bottom along side bathing in holy water. It was even worse trudging in the snow after them, watching Angelus' hand cupped possessively over both women's backsides. For every minute they spent in the snow, Spike had come up with a new way to kill Angelus, and he was up to about a hundred and sixty when they finally spotted the house.

It was nestled inside small banks of snow, but the path up to it was clear enough to walk down. That, and the smoke rising from the chimney was enough to confirm that someone was home. Spike could almost feel the warmth of the fire from where the four vampires stood. Inside that house would be heaven, or at least as close to heaven as a vampire would ever want to get.

"William!" Angelus bellowed. Spike took an unneeded breath, just to let it out in an exaggerated sigh that his grandsire was sure to have heard. Then he walked forward to the other's sides.

"Yeah, whatcha want, Angelus?"

"Stash the luggage. We'll come back for it later."

"Why are we doing that?"

"We need an invitation to get in the bloody house, William. Or have you forgotten? We need them to think we're human, until we're in the door at least."

"What's that got to do with the bags?"

Before Spike could blink, Angelus' hands were off of the girls' bottoms and around his neck, squeezing and holding him off the ground. "I put up with you for exactly one reason, _Spike_. You amuse Dru. But as I consider my own sanity much more precious than Drusilla, you will do as I say or else I will remove your tongue before I remove your head."

His hands slipped from Spike's throat, and Spike fell to the ground, too shocked to catch himself. His throat was getting far too familiar with the calloused palm of Angelus' hand. Spike didn't know how much more he could take, especially in the horrid weather.

Angelus stalked toward the house, Drusilla trailing behind him. A gloved hand lowered and reached out toward Spike, and he looked up, surprised to see that Darla was standing above him, offering help.

He took her hand suspiciously and let her haul him to his feet. "No human could carry that much luggage through this snow. You really are a simpleton, aren't you?"

"Maybe I just don't care."

Darla smiled, snow flurries around her face and gentle smile softening her from stern matriarch to amused angel. "I always love an underdog."

They caught up with Angelus and Drusilla just as they were nearing the path that led up to the house. Angelus glared at Darla, and grabbed for her arm possessively. She let him have it with a coy smile, and settled into his side.

Drusilla hung back and took Spike's hand, smiling angelically. "My pretty Willy… I do so love it when Daddy makes you all blue and red. Such pretty colors for your princess."

"No pretty colors on this trip, Dru. I don't fancy another fight with the poofter."

"I heard that, _William_."

Spike rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut, all the while telling himself that he didn't care what the Grand Poofter heard.

The ragged group headed up the small, cleared path to the door. Angelus was in front, and he knocked, Darla a step behind him and looking every inch the beautiful damsel. Spike's arm went around Drusilla to shield her from the harmless cold, and she settled into his side. It was their family position, their portrait position, cultivated to win the trust of whoever was to open that door. After all, who could resist four good-looking young people shelter, especially on a freezing night?

The door opened, revealing a thin, pale man, who took one look at them and slammed the door shut again.

Angelus turned and looked at Spike, eyes wide. "I…"

Spike chuckled. For once, Angelus was speechless.


End file.
